Handsome
by Atopos
Summary: America couldn’t help but think that he was a strikingly handsome hero, he just wished that England could see him that way, too. Slight AmericaxEngland.


Atopos - Haven't written anything in awhile, and even this story is old. I found it in a folder. Originally, I thought it wasn't any good, but I'm not too sure how to improve it. I should be working on some new things, but I found so many stories I never got around to posting so I thought I should start here. Hopefully it's alrigt.

I own nothing. R&R people.

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**Handsome**

America couldn't help but think that he was strikingly handsome, thank you very much. Of course, this just had to be a well-known fact. Everyone who passed had to see him, if only for a couple of seconds, enough time to take everything in and rub their eyes in disbelief at seeing such a good-lucking guy. His golden blond hair, his remarkable blue eyes framed by glasses, and his proud smile. Not too mention the fact that his body was pretty nice for someone who ate burgers and drank sodas all day.

As he started for the meeting, he crossed paths with plenty of other nations. His younger looking brother, Canada, smiled at him in greeting. America felt as if his brother admired him in some way. Canada would grow to be just like him, and America knew that he would feel a great amount of pride if he saw his brother do that. Canada would be gorgeous, just like him. They shared the same golden hair, the same eyes (though Canada's were closer to green than blue) behind the same pair of glasses. They were brothers all right, just different.

Along the way, America saw the smaller countries, the ones who thrived to be more independent. They all feared Russia and Germany, but none of them hid when they saw people like Canada, China and him enter their sight. They wanted to be like them as well. They wanted to produce great products, invade other countries, and prove that they were great, too. Not all of them were fighters, some of them could rely on other skills in order to invite tourists. After all, this was how France became popular. Everyone needed their start somewhere.

America was a proud country in every sense of the word. Yet he was also good-looking, and he thought the two were a perfect combination in order to make the best hero.

But then he would enter the meeting room and all his senses would vanish. He could feel himself crumble under one person's stare. England. The blond, older nation was much more attractive than some of the other ones. He was also wise when it came to battles and life. And yet England had no pride whatsoever anymore (well, that was what America though). England was happy where he was in life. All he wanted was respect from some of the younger nations. Especially America.

"England!" America shouted, raising his hand to say hello.

England looked over his shoulder, and then America noticed that France was also there. France and England had so many ties to each other. Not only had they fought as allies, but they also fought as enemies against one another, signed treaties that most times made no difference to their relationship, and not to mention their 'child', Canada. France normally paid all his caring, parental attention to either England or Canada, never America now that he was older.

"What do you want?" England hissed. He merely saw the other nation as a hindrance now.

"I just came to see if you missed me." America told him, covering up his real feelings for seeing England and France spending so much time together. Or anyone else who was spending a lot of time with England for that matter.

England snorted. "Why would I miss you? All you do is cause me trouble." He crossed his arms over his chest, his face turned the other way.

America stayed put and took a seat next to where England stood. France, seeing the determined, protective look America possessed for a second, left to harass some other poor country without a farewell except for a wave in their direction.

"How do you put up with him?"

England's eyes widened. "Have you ever heard the saying 'pot calling the kettle black?"

"Does that apply here?" America looked confused, so England took some pity on him (for once).

"It just means that he's just like you. Same annoying, over-confident, bloody git." England told him, reaching towards the large table for his teacup. He took a delicate sip from it, but he could feel America's eyes follow every motion. He glared over at the younger nation. "Do you _mind_?"

"No, not really," America laughed. He continued to watch England, even when the other took the seat closest to the window where one could see the garden and opened up the newspaper strategically left there. He had always aspired to be like England when he was younger. When had that changed? When had his feelings of wanting to be like England changed to wanting to tease and get him riled up?

"You're still watching me." England stated, not taking his eyes off the paper. He sounded irritated, and America liked that for some reason.

"Yeah. Ya gotta problem?" America smirked when he saw the newspaper lower just a tad. He caught England's eyes and gave him a lecherous wink. There was a heavy blush, some blabbering, and the newspaper flew back up.

America sighed, his fun gone for the time being. "Oi, England, do you think I'm hot?"

England's hands fumbled. It was a good thing he had placed that teacup on the windowsill. The only thing that was ruined thus far was the newspaper in England's clenched hands. "What the bloody hell gave you that idea? Of course I don't think you're…_hot_, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. I suppose it's your word for handsome or good-looking, right?"

"Whatever." America rolled his eyes. England would never answer at this rate, but at least he was flustered, which could have meant that England was lying. "I just wanted to know if you liked me."

"I…like you."

America was about to jump up and give a whoop of excitement, however England caught him beforehand.

"Don't let that go to your already inflated head. Just because I like you, it doesn't mean anything odd! It means I can tolerate you sometimes! I still think you have a lot of problems…"

Figuring later would be the better time for witty (or silly or crude) remarks, America settled for settling into his chair and watching England. One would think he was bored out of his mind, trying to sleep or think up strange jokes, but he was merely trying to figure out how to get the one person he cared the most about to admit something he wanted to hear.

He honestly wanted to know if England, wonderful, proud, good-for-a-laugh, can't-cook-worth-a-damn, England, thought that the hero was handsome.

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- Atopos


End file.
